completely lose control and make another stupid mistake.
"Good night."
"Good night," Ethan says. "And take care."
I nod and walk away. Somehow, it's more difficult than usual, especially since I can feel him watching me. I can feel his magnetic force and I almost want to just succumb to it, to turn around and throw myself at him and make my fantasy come true instead of going back to my empty, lonely apartment. Besides, I can tell he needs a break, and there's no one here right now, so we could do whatever we want and no one would know. It would just be our own dirty little secret.
The thought is enough to make my cheeks hot, and I'm glad Ethan can't see my face. I keep walking, reminding myself with every step I take that Ethan is my boss.
No more mistakes today, Stella.
Chapter Two
Ethan
Strange, I think as I watch Stella disappear behind the elevator doors. I feel like the woman I've just spoken to is completely different from the one I've been working closely with for the past two years.
It's not just because Stella looked different. I've only ever seen her in stiff dresses or colored silk blouses and tight-fitting skirts, but tonight she was wearing pants and a white top that seemed to hang from her shoulders. The topmost button was left undone, too, and though her cleavage remained concealed, I could see her black bra through the thin fabric. I had to keep myself from staring at it, in fact. Then there's her hair. Apart from that first time I met her, I've always seen her with her cappuccino mane all combed back and tied up, which is attractive enough, but nothing compared to when she has her hair down. There's just something sensual about a woman whose shiny locks are flowing freely past her shoulders, like they're inviting me to run my fingers through them. I nearly did. I wanted to make even more of a mess of them.
That's the thing. Tonight, Stella was a mess. Well, not really a mess, but she didn't look as organized or composed as she usually is. It made me realize how hard she's been working. I know she works hard, but to go through the trouble of making it look easy? I don't give her enough credit.
I admire her even more now, but at the same time, I want to see more of this side of her. This unguarded, innocent, disoriented Stella. I want to mess her up even more and then hold her and tell her everything will be alright. I want to be the one to pick up her scattered pieces and put them all back in place. I want to pamper her and protect her.
I want her. I always have, but this is different. I want her so badly my chest feels like a ton of steel.
But nothing has changed. Stella is still my assistant and I'm still her boss. The line between us may have been blurred earlier, but it's there and I still can't cross it, though God knows I just had to summon every ounce of self-control I had in me not to.
Fuck.
I slam my palms on top of her desk in frustration. The pen holder and the pad of sticky notes bounce. The pile of papers fans out.
As I fix it, I notice the leather-bound notebook hidden beneath and my curiosity gets piqued. What's this? Her own planner? A phone book? Or maybe it's her personal collection of affirmations and inspirational quotes that help her get through each day. My grandmother used to have one. Whatever it is, it can't be that private if Stella left it on her desk. I'm just going to take a peek.
I open the book to a random page and find it filled with handwritten lines. I read.
I can't go to sleep. I'm grateful that I'm alive, that I have a job and a roof over my head, but I can't help but feel it's not enough. I feel so alone.
I stop. Whoa. That's private.
I close the notebook and scrutinize the cover. Is this Stella's diary?
I know it is. I know those lines were in her handwriting. I also know it's not right to read someone else's diary. I should just put this down without reading another line. I should put it back where I found it. But I don't. I can't.
Those words I just read were like a doorway to a whole new world - the world of